


A Damsel In Shining Armour

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bulgaria (country), Community: interhouse_fest, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Girl Saves Boy, HP: EWE, Hufflepuff, Minor Violence, Plot, Pool Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Ravenclaw, Romance, Secondary pairing: Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach gets into a spot of dangerous trouble in Bulgaria, and his relations with his friends back in England aren't exactly problem free, either. But Luna Lovegood turns up in Sofia in the nick of time, and there's nothing wrong with a damsel in shining armour rescuing a knight in distress, is there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Damsel In Shining Armour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 Interhouse Fest on Livejournal. Thank you to Annanith, Anise and Muridae for the great alpha/beta job, and to Nightfalltwen for the charming prompt!

  
  
  
Making a living as a wizard by doing magic tricks for Muggles was probably on the ethically questionable side, or at least criminally easy; roughly along the lines of stealing sweets from kids, Zach reckoned. If he could get some sort of manual labour, he often preferred it. Still, he wasn't too torn up over the deceit. There was the Statute of Secrecy to keep in mind, so he had to be careful, but the Muggles were getting the entertainment they wanted, and he was getting the money he needed for food and a roof over his head most nights. All parties walked away satisfied.

He didn't charm or chat or engage with the crowd that gathered around him, unlike most of the other performers he'd seen. Georgi, the accordionist who played sentimental classics a little way up Sofia's Vitosha Boulevard and regarded Zach's constant crowd with envy, hadn't taken long to nickname Zach 'Mr _Sŭrditko_ ', which he'd gleefully translated to Zach as 'Mr Sourpuss'. Zach had never been a great charmer, but he'd always been agile and nimble and he'd aced Transfiguration, and to his rapt audience he knew he must seem to have magic at his fingertips. That was truer than they knew, as Zach juggled a dozen balls that inexplicably turned a rainbow of colours whenever they touched his hands, or made shooting stars from his fingertips describe circles and spirals in the air, or made singing dormice appear out of his sleeves only for them to seemingly turn into coat buttons and gum wrappers when he put them in his pockets. All while keeping his wand safely disillusioned and out of sight, of course. It was party tricks, kids' stuff, for a wizard. But the Muggle audience lapped it up. 

He generally avoided looking them in the face, with an occasional exception if a pretty girl was trying to catch his eye, since that sometimes could lead to a welcome diversion of sex or at least a free meal. Usually, though, he kept his gaze a little above their heads, or at their knees. And it was while doing exactly that, one day early in October, that he became aware of a shocking-pink broomstick-patterned knee sock, and a slightly concertinaed yellow owl-patterned knee sock, ending in small feet slipped into green ankle boots with bright purple laces.

Zach narrowed his eyes, lost focus for a second, and ended his act with ungracious abruptness, the flying mice he'd been juggling caught and turned back into buttons as he stuffed them in his pockets. He ignored the noises of disappointment from the crowd, and scooped up his things and stuffed them in his bag before glancing over his shoulder for a second look. The green boots and bright socks were still standing in the dispersing crowd. He'd recognise those mismatched knee socks anywhere, but this time, to confirm his suspicion, he let his gaze wander further up. Over coltish long legs, a short star-spangled tulle skirt, long ash blonde hair lying in pale wisps over a striped knit poncho, and finally, the grey-eyed, sweetly interested face of the girl he'd suspected he'd see.

He gave her a brusque, uncertain nod and shouldered his bag, started walking down the road and swung into the first side street without a further glance back. He'd just concluded that she likely wouldn't follow when she fell into step beside him, keeping his brisk pace without seemingly any effort at all. As if she were skipping beside him, all but weightless. The long, colourful fringes of her poncho danced with her motion.

"It's lovely to see you, Zacharias Smith," she said cheerfully.

"Lovegood," he grunted by way of acknowledgement, curt if not downright hostile. It wasn't terrible to see her; in fact he vastly preferred her to a lot of people it might have been, but it was still disrupting to suddenly be facing someone from home. It felt good and bad at once, and it was the good part that unsettled him. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, this and that," she said with a vague smile. "Visiting friends. Seeing the sights. And doing research on the Needle-Fanged Congroe, for the _Quibbler_. I arrived in Sofia yesterday. How about you?"

"Passing through." It was true enough. He'd come into Bulgaria at the start of September after a summer of Greek island-hopping, and he'd been in the country for a few weeks, mostly in Sofia. He'd soon be turning west, heading towards the south of Spain and Morocco, where the temperatures would be more agreeable for the winter months. The days were still sunny and warm, but the nights were getting chilly. Travelling the world without a real destination, he was spoilt for choice, and he quickly grew restless staying in the same place for too long.

"When are you moving on, then?" she asked, undeterred by his terseness.

He gave a lop-sided shrug and heaved his bag more firmly up on his shoulder. "Soon. Saving up a bit of money first." He had an evening job of a rather different nature that he wasn't much looking forward to, but which would help greatly with the saving. It would be brilliant being able to afford an actual hotel room again, not sharing with stinky strangers at youth hostels.

"Well, I think we should have lunch together," Luna declared. She tilted her face up at him, with that dreamy-eyed little smile.

Zach cocked an eyebrow at her. She'd offered it up more as a firmly held conviction than a suggestion, and he was amused despite himself. "Your treat, then, is it?" 

Her smile widened instantly, a veritable sunburst on her face. "Of course. I had coffee and pastries at a wonderful little café near the National Theatre, yesterday. Come, I'll show you the way." Without further ceremony, she slipped her small hand into his, and Zach curled his fingers around hers on surprised instinct. Damn, it wasn't natural that someone should look so delighted for his company. But he couldn't deny that it felt kind of nice. And what harm would it do, really? 

She seemed remarkably sure of where she was going, for someone who'd only arrived yesterday. Zach still wasn't very streetwise after close to a month, although the National Theatre was close to Vitosha and easy enough to find. She strode along, chattering distractedly about things they saw on the way yet apparently aware exactly where she was at every moment. Lovegood was a funny one. Cedric's family had been neighbours with her and her dad, and some of Cedric's regard for the strange-eyed Ravenclaw girl had rubbed off on Zach. Admittedly, she'd strained his goodwill with her 'Loser's Lurgy' comments about him, but Zach still felt that Cedric wouldn't have said that Luna was smarter than most unless there was some truth in it.

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at a pavement table outside a small café. The place wasn't too posh, which was fortunate as Zach was in his battered leather jacket and his only halfway clean change of t-shirt and jeans, while Luna was... Luna. There was nothing wrong about the way she looked, but fashion wise, as in most other senses, she was a law unto herself.

Luna ordered coffees for them both, something sweet for herself, and a big plate of savoury _palachinki_ , thin pancakes filled with meat, mushrooms, and cheese for Zach, who was hungry. She started on her own pile of French toast with honey and berries, and allowed him to just dig into his meal at first, although he could feel her gaze drifting to him. He paid no great attention, emptied his mind for concerns about whatever she might be thinking. It was she who'd sought out his company after all, and he hadn't eaten since early morning, toast and tea at the Muggle youth hostel where he was staying. This was delicious.

He'd just as well have preferred to finish his meal and then get up to leave, but Lovegood had paid for his lunch, and he did have better manners than a troll when it was warranted. And it wasn't that he couldn't abide a spot of company from home, if he were honest. It was more that he was worried about finding out exactly how much he'd missed it. "This stuff is great," he said, when he'd finished the most of his meal and stilled the worst hunger. He reached for his napkin and wiped his mouth. "Thanks." 

"It's my pleasure, Zacharias. I like watching men enjoy when they eat."

He'd have suspected innuendo if it were any other girl. He didn't think Luna incapable of mischief, far from it, but she did have an air of innocence about her: not virginal necessarily, just something very sweet and pure. He cut off another bite of his pancakes and smirked at her. "Is that so? Well, I don't mind providing you with a show to make it up to you for the bill."

"It's sensual, in a way. How you eat." 

Zach coughed around the bite he'd put in his mouth. "Really?" 

"But perhaps that is more my perception, than your actual experience," she said thoughtfully, twirling a lock of her long hair around a finger.

He chewed and swallowed before replying, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or not. "Are you flirting with me, Lovegood?"

"Why do you think so?" she asked, tilting her head at him and smiling with those big silvery eyes, and damn if he could tell whether she was coy or genuine in her wonder. 

"Because I was expecting you to be acting like a regular girl," he said wryly. "My mistake."

"I'm quite a regular girl," Luna told him seriously. "I'm just an irregular person."

He did laugh, then. "As I said. My mistake."

"That's all right. People are mistaken about me a lot. I'm not sure why, since I don't hide much, but it doesn't usually bother me. Does it bother you?"

Zach frowned, not quite sure he followed. "That people are mistaken about you? Or that I am?"

"No." Luna slid her plate towards the middle of the table, pushing her knife and fork at him to invite him to share. "I meant that people are mistaken about you a lot, too. Only I guess it's understandable that they are, since you do seem to prefer to hide a lot of yourself."

He swallowed, surprised, and averted his gaze under her gentle, forthright scrutiny. "Fuck, no. It doesn't bother me. They can think what the hell they like. And... I don't hide anything, so perhaps they aren't so mistaken. Sorry to disappoint, but what you see is what you get." It made him pretty uncomfortable that anyone might think otherwise. He cleared his voice. "So, who are those friends you're visiting in Bulgaria? Locals, or British expats?"

"Both," Luna said. "Hermione is staying with Viktor Krum in Vratsa. Well, that's what she's said so far, that she's staying with him, but I think it's starting to look more like she moved in with him, by now."

"Really? I was in Vratsa last weekend. Had a look at the Vultures' pitch." Zach leaned back in his chair, intrigued by this juicy bit of gossip, which she did indeed present with a little grin as if it were exactly that. "What happened with Granger and Weasley?"

"Hermione says they were too different, and too similar as well." Luna frowned. "Which sounds odd, but I think I can see what she means. They're obviously different, but they're both such Gryffindors. Gryffindors are quite unbendy. Anyway, now Hermione is here, doing field studies of ancient wizarding history in the Thracian region."

"And a field study of Quidditch players in the region?"

She laughed. "Only one of them, I believe." She picked up her knife and fork again, cut off a triangle of French toast and scooped up honey on it, then carefully balanced a strawberry on top. Picking it up with her fingers, she raised the bite to his lips. "Here, please do try it. It's delicious."

"Yeah, so you say. You just want the wicked pleasure of watching me eat it," Zach said dryly, leaning in again. 

"That's quite perceptive, Zacharias." Her grin was quick and bright, and her fingertips brushed his lips, sticky-sweet with honey, and sent a sensation to his groin which sufficiently shocked him that he simply ate the morsel from her fingers without any further attempts to tease. He chewed and swallowed while she licked honey off her fingertips, which he did _not_ watch. Damn it. He shouldn't be considering Luna Lovegood in a sexual manner. It simply wasn't right. 

"It's good, is it not?" She dried her cleaned fingertips with her napkin. "You do hide, though," she said, returning to their earlier conversation with no warning. "You hide yourself quite literally. And you don't have to, you know. Your friends in England don't hold it against you, what your father did. You could come home; they'd be glad to see you again."

"I don't _hide_. _You_ found me, didn't you?" And there it was. Zach felt a weird plummeting in his stomach as his pleasant-if-alarming onset of lust for Luna was swept away by a heavy wave of betrayal. He'd thought she'd stumbled across him by wild chance. Had thought she was genuinely delighted to see him, which was a laugh, because he generally was the last sort of person to inspire delight in people. "Who sent you to find me?" he asked flatly. "Ernie? Hannah?" No way was it Susan. She wouldn't forgive him in a million years.

She bit her lip, her hands fluttering on the table before she dropped them in her lap. "Ernie flooed me a few days ago because Neville had mentioned to Hannah that I was off to Bulgaria, and Hannah told Ernie, and... you see, Zacharias, they asked me whether I would be stopping by Sofia, and to see if I could find you and check if you were all right. The owl you sent Ernie a few days ago when you were drunk... well, it worried him."

"I drunk-owled Ernie?" Zach asked, appalled and momentarily distracted from his sense of betrayal by this dismaying piece of news. Fuck, he must have been soaked to the gills, because he absolutely couldn't remember. But... wait, that night at a wizarding bar in Vratsa when he'd acquainted himself with the Bulgarian national drink of _rakija_ for the first time. And literally woke up in a gutter. That must be when it had happened. God only knew what pitiful nonsense he'd written, dead drunk and uncensored.

"You did. So he asked me to check up on you, and of course I was glad to. You wrote in the letter that you were sharing a room at a Muggle youth hostel with three German boys with stinky trainers. So when I came to Sofia yesterday, I went to the hostel and asked about you, followed your tracks." 

His jaw set and he glanced away. "I don't know what to tell you," he said gruffly. "Owling Ernie was a mistake, obviously. I'd never have done it sober. You can tell him that I'm all right, they certainly needn't worry on my account."

"They're not only worried. You see, the thing is," Luna said quietly, "they miss you, Zacharias. A lot."

Zach's laugh came out harsher than he'd expected. "They miss the Death Eater's son? Hardly. You know, what my father did, is one thing. They despise me for leaving before the Battle, anyway. They made that very clear."

"Not after they learned the reason, in the hearing about your father," Luna said carefully. "If you could have just stayed for a bit after—"

"I had nowhere left to stay after my house and inheritance were confiscated. Certainly not with my former friends. And if the Wizengamot didn't believe my testimony, why would they?"

She leaned in closer in an almost pleading motion. "Because they're still your friends. And the Wizengamot didn't disbelieve it. They just didn't take your testimony into account because there was no one to back up your story. And your father was—" She came to a dead stop, and seemed to flounder as she realised that there was no kind way to proceed. "Well, he... was known to be—"

"Oh, yes. He was a snobbish, blood-bigoted bastard," Zach said, with some bitter relish in spelling out the unpleasant fact that she was stammering on. "And he did fight on Voldemort's side in the battle. And paid for it with his life." He cut his eyes to her. "He wasn't a nice man, but he cared about me. At least I found out that he cared enough to not want me to have to take the Mark. They came to him at Christmas when I was home, told him it was either him or me. People can believe it or not; it's the truth." He discovered that he'd been cramming the napkin into a tight ball in his fist, and threw it on his plate and pushed back his chair. "And if Macmillan had believed it, he'd have come here himself, not sent you because you're naive and sweet and I wouldn't go so far as to hex you for badgering me on his behalf."

Luna clapped her hands to her mouth, a gesture that momentarily stopped his motion and his angry words. "Oh goodness," she said unhappily. "They trusted me with this and I've made a mess of it, haven't I?"

Zach sighed and raked a hand back through his hair. He hadn't meant to upset her, didn't want her feeling guilty; he simply wasn't all that good at filtering his annoyance at the best of times. "Luna," he said, making an attempt at least to speak more gently, "this is everyone's mess but yours. So go back to Vratsa. Go look for your Needle-toothed... somethings. Have a great time, and leave me alone. I'm managing all right, as you can see for yourself." He hesitated. "Thanks for lunch, and the company. It was good of you."

He managed a sort of smile as he left, only to make her look less sad. But it didn't really seem to work.

***

He went back to Vitosha boulevard for an afternoon stint of performing, hoping she'd have the sense to leave him be. And she didn't turn up in the crowd again, so presumably she'd taken his advice. He didn't know why that should make him grumpier than usual, but he found himself practically scowling at his audience as he performed his tricks. They didn't seem to mind. Georgi wandered over to watch and threw in a few jeers about 'Mr Sourpuss' and his charming demeanour, which had the crowd laughing, but their amusement sounded indulgent, not nasty like the envious git likely hoped. It was part of Zach's reputation and appeal, by now, the fact that his act was so good that he didn't have to crack jokes or cajole for his coins. 

Georgi came over again and hung around while Zach packed up for the day. His English was quite fluent, though his Bulgarian accent was heavy. "Odd looking girl you went with, earlier, _Anglichanin_. Nice legs, pretty girl. But odd."

Zach threw him a sharp look. He'd not spoken to Luna at all here on the boulevard, so if Georgi knew that much, he must have paid close enough attention to notice Zach's recognition of her, and then have followed Luna to see her catch up with him. Which was already starting to seem pretty creepy, as far as Zach was concerned. 

"Not your fucking business," he said and turned to leave.

"Saw you at the café with her. Did you go back to her room, get your _kur_ wet?" Georgi's leer left no doubt about the meaning of the Bulgarian word, and Zach swung back on him, suddenly furious.

"No, you ugly wanker. And you'd better forget you ever saw that girl. Scrub her out of your filthy mind, or I'll do it for you." He took a deep breath and checked himself, taken aback by his own anger. Truth was, he wasn't only indignant on Luna's behalf or reminded of his own untimely desire, he was also hugely unsettled by the realization that Georgi had been sneaking around after him. Was this the first time? And had he been careful enough with his magic? He'd Apparated back to the hostel most days, but he'd always made sure to find a deserted back alley to do it from.

"You have a filthy mind, too," Georgi pointed out with a nasty little smirk. "I've seen you take girls from the crowd, not just to go for a walk, eh? And you are odd, too. Same as your lady Long Legs with the strange eyes. A very odd man, you are, Mr _Sŭrditko_." As Zach stared at him, Georgi backed off with a one-fingered salute, going back to his accordion.

Zach tried to shake off the unease, but the remarks had left him wary enough to take the tramcar to his evening appointment, and he didn't cheat and distract the ticket conductor with magic, either. It really wouldn't do to catch the attention of the Bulgarian Aurors — their headquarters right here in Sofia, of course — and be hauled in for questioning over inappropriate use of magic, a few days before he planned to leave. So he paid out his coin and took a seat, watching shop fronts and office blocks snail by in the congested rush hour traffic. Muggles' days were different, he mused as he looked out the window, all that wasted time getting to places they needed to be. Still, they weren't all that different from wizards, when it came right down to it, not from what he'd experienced. His father had been very wrong, there. Georgi had his equals in the wizarding world, for sure. And the girls he'd mentioned, the girls Zach sometimes went with for a shag in a bedsit or in a back room of the shop they worked in, they flirted and blushed and were cheeky and giggly, same as witches anywhere.

Well, not all. Lovegood came unbidden to mind again. But then he remembered what she'd said to him. _"I'm quite a regular girl. I'm just an irregular person."_ He'd laughed, but now he wondered about her meaning. Had she actually been flirting? Would she have taken him to her room, if he'd turned on the charm, which he knew very well how to do when it served such a purpose? Would she have been bold or shy, naive or more experienced than her wide-eyed manner suggested? He couldn't really imagine Lovegood blushing, but surely there must be ways to make it happen. And fuck, why was he even thinking of that? He'd sent her on her way and a good thing it was, too. She'd have laughed if he tried it on. She'd never have turned up and feigned concern in that sweet voice if Ernie hadn't asked her to do it. 

He got off at a station near the club, and walked the rest of the way. It was his fifth night at this establishment, and the last, thank fuck. Zach wasn't given to undue modesty, and God knew he'd shown his arse often enough in his life that he ought to be used to it, but it still felt odd to be literally parading it on stage in a thong in front of a bawdily cheering crowd of drunk and merry wenches. It made him feel like an absolute tosser, if he were honest with himself.

Still, it paid ten times better than the street job, and that sweetened the pill considerably. So he entered through the back door, went straight through to the changing rooms, and into the showers after a few jokes with the other blokes who'd arrived. He made an effort to be a bit more outgoing, here. He'd quickly learnt that the other strippers were quick to take offence at a snub and quicker to take the mickey, and he preferred to have things proceeding as smoothly as possible. It wasn't that different from Quidditch locker room dynamics.

He soaped up and washed his hair, and then towelled off and dried his hair with an electric gadget. He put some sort of gunk in it from a box, and sprayed oil all over from a can. Then he went to get his costume. He'd been approached by the manager on the street a week ago, and he'd meant to capitalise on Zach's skills; had in fact professed to want to hire Zach as a magician act at first before casually mentioning how much more they'd pay if he agreed to drop some items of clothing in the process. So Zach had been outfitted in a Muggle idea of a magician's costume, with black trousers and jacket, a black cape lined in red, white shirt front with a wide red cummerbund and poncy white gloves. And a tall top hat, to make the hilarity complete. He had a wand, a measly little thing made of black plastic, and a pack of Muggle playing cards, which he'd cast a spell on with his real wand to make them float and cling to him a bit for effect. 

The night's audience had started filling the venue. He could hear the steady rise and hum of voices, and then as the music started, excited chatter and laughter and rowdy whistles and hoots. The first act went on stage, and the noise exploded in screams and applause. Zach stoically waited for his turn. Some of the guys had a drink, or paced the backstage corridors, practicing their dance moves, getting pumped up for their show. Zach certainly wouldn't have minded being drunk off his arse for the endeavour, but he knew he needed to keep his mind clear. He kept his wand secured in his locker for his number; keeping it disillusioned and inconspicuous would have been tricky as the clothes came off. So he did a simpler version of his street act, with some effects that had been charmed beforehand, and otherwise relying on his sleight of hand. 

And on his physical appeal, obviously. He wasn't as bulky as some of the others, but he wasn't worried; women tended to like what they saw when they looked at him and if being aware of that fact made him a smug prat, then so be it. He was in good shape, without an ounce of excess fat on him, going for a run most nights and sticking with as much of his exercise regimen from his Quidditch days as was feasible. His act had gone over exceedingly well, every night. 

His was the last act before the half-time pause, and as he heard the strains of music change for his number, he strode barefoot on stage in a dramatic whirl of his cape, met with a chorus of wolf whistles and applause. The manager shouted out a presentation in Bulgarian that Zach ignored, starting his juggling act with the gruff arrogance that served him perfectly well on the street. The charmed plastic balls flew through the air in bright flashes of colour and he knew they'd never miss the pull of his palms, even when he began the required strutting and posing around the edge of the stage. Even that, he did with deliberate obliviousness to the shouts of appreciation, until the music rose to the first crescendo and he ripped his cape off, leaving him in the sleeveless shirt front and trousers. 

Letting the juggling balls drop away, Zach pulled out the pack of cards from his trouser pockets, and it was their turn to fly through the air. A bit of that and it was off with his cummerbund and gloves, another trick and he shrugged out of the shirt front, a popular move to judge by the lusty shouts and squeals. Left in top hat, bow tie and trousers, the music dropped and he suddenly stopped and took in the crowd with a sweeping gaze. A little smirk, and the response was electric when he threw the top hat into the audience, the crowd going wild as he finally made eye contact. 

And got stuck on a pair of big, silver-grey eyes, that were regarding his antics on stage with an air of startled interest. 

Zach froze in shock for a long moment, blood rushing to his face before hot annoyance flowed through him like saving grace and helped him snap back into his performance. He pocketed his pack of cards and surveyed the edge of the stage. Every night, he singled out one girl in the front row that he wouldn't mind planting his lips on, and tonight he'd had his eyes on a chubby little brunette with a cute dimpled smile. But a devil-may-care rush of adrenaline made him saunter in a different direction, holding Luna's gaze, a lopsided smile in place as he crooked his finger in a come-hither gesture to beckon her closer to the stage. 

Luna hadn't expected this to happen, that much was obvious. He saw her lips part on an intake of breath, and she took a hesitant step forward, then stopped and inclined her head at him in query. If she'd been a random woman in the audience, he might have dropped the mischief right there. But damn her stubbornness, Zach had never asked her to spy on him; he had, in fact, requested that she leave him the fuck alone, and here they were. He knelt at the edge of the stage in a hum of hovering, clinging cards, rocking his pelvis into the air in blatant suggestion, and ran a hand slowly down his stomach to tap at his trouser button with his fingers, never letting go of Luna's gaze. Now the crowd was cheering at her to take him up on his request. A woman reached with eager fingers for a stray card hovering near his thigh, and he rapped her lightly across the knuckles with his fake wand, not sparing a glance as the hand was hastily withdrawn amidst raucous laughter.

He only looked at Luna.

Suddenly, she started moving forwards, and Zach saw with grim amusement that even the throng right in front of the stage gave way for her as though she were some fey, light-dusted creature of the imagination. Hell, perhaps they weren't far wrong, at that. And then she was standing right before the stage, looking up at him, a tentative, puzzled smile tugging at her lips. A leap of faith in her eyes. Trusting, God help him. Zach was in no way deserving; he'd had retribution on his mind when he started this. He'd wanted to embarrass her, just as he had felt humiliated to be caught at this job by someone he knew. But seeing her reach for his trouser button with sweet, serene intent, cool fingertips touching his belly with reverence as if there were anything remotely pure about this, he realised his irritation had been replaced by a thrill that made his heart race in his chest and a thick pulse swell through his cock. Eyes burning into hers, he caught her hand with his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist, and stilled it against his stomach, oblivious to the reactions of the crowd. 

"Zacharias." He didn't hear it, but he saw her lips form the word. She seemed frustrated, and as she kept talking, he leaned down and put his ear to her lips. She paused, a hitch of breath, and then she spoke again, shouted, rather, to be heard above the din. "I wanted to tell you about my dad, Zacharias. So that you'll see that it's not only _your_ dad who—"

He pulled back to give her an incredulous stare, and couldn't help himself; suddenly he was laughing helplessly. "Luna, please don't talk to me about our bloody _fathers_ when you've just given me the most inappropriate hard-on, _Christ_ —" He didn't even know if she could hear him, but she frowned, and tugged his head down to her with a hand at the back of his neck.

"Can I talk to you again? After the show?"

"Sure," he nodded, resigned. He was still holding her other hand by the wrist, and now he moved it up to his neck instead, urging her with a gesture to take off his bowtie. She complied, at once fully distracted, her gaze drifting from his face to his chest to his stomach, pupils blown wide and dark. Zach took the bowtie and tied it round her wrist, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, and then jumped up on his feet before the audience could become too non-plussed by their irregular interaction. He dropped the trousers without further delay and did another round of the stage as he picked up his stuff, trying not to think too closely in the gleeful racket of approval about the fact that someone he knew was seeing him in nothing but a black satin pouch that held his bollocks and half-erect cock, and a piece of glittery string between his cheeks. He supposed there were worse things in the world. Wars, and tripe for dinner, and Celestina Warbeck hits on the wireless.

He went straight into the shower again, and turned the water on cold to deal with his hopeful erection before he adjusted it to a more pleasant temperature. He was so relieved to be done with the entire place that he was practically levitating. He'd pick up his pay from Galina in the reception and then go find Luna, get them both out of here, and she could tell him whatever was on her mind. And... perhaps they'd see what happened. Zach wasn't at all certain where he had her. For all her assertions that she didn't hide much, she sure wasn't easy for a regular bloke to read.

The changing room was empty when he came out, and he undid his locker and took out his jeans and t-shirt, socks and shoes. He pulled it all on quickly, then reached into the locker for his jacket. Automatically, he patted his inner pocket to check for his wand — and froze. Apprehension pooled cold at the pit of his stomach as he checked the holster inside the sleeve to see if he'd left it there, although he knew he hadn't. The sleeve was empty, too. His wand was gone. 

There was movement in his side vision, just a blur, something swinging at him too fast for reaction. For a split second, pain exploded at the back of his skull. Then everything went dark.

***

He woke up the first time sputtering and gasping from a bucket of icy water over his head, to find himself with his arms bound at his back, in a windowless room that smelled of cellar and rot. A stark light bulb flickered overhead. Georgi was there, nervous and gloating, as well as a broken-nosed man in a suit, and a bigger, thick-set guy with what must be a Muggle gun. The rhythmic thumping of music from the club overhead pounded through Zach's throbbing skull. 

They claimed they'd seen him vanish in thin air, more than once, and demanded to know what sort of lucrative technology was involved in his wand. Zach laughed and told them it was magic — he was a magician, right? The truthful joke earned him a black eye and a split lip, at which point he spat out that they were all crazy and it was just a stick of wood. Unfortunately, his expression when Mr Thick Guy took his wand in his fists and threatened to snap it proved him a liar, and after a punch to his gut that folded him double on the floor, Georgi came forward to give him a good, vindictive kicking in the ribs. Over a blood haze of agony, Zach faintly heard Mr Broken Nose tell him to consider his options until they came back. 

Zach rolled over to throw up, and passed out. 

He woke up the second time from a scraping of metal against metal, the sound grating against his hammering head. With consciousness came awareness of cold, and pain. He tried to move, to raise himself away from the icy, wet concrete floor. The motion made him choke back a groan as every muscle and fibre in his body screamed in protest.

Memory came back at him in waves. He'd no idea how long it had been since they'd left him here, but the music from the club had stopped, so it had to be well past midnight. The metal scraping thing had stopped, too, but he recognised it belatedly as the squeaking of a metal staircase, and now he could hear footsteps coming closer. He couldn't even steel himself for what was coming because he had no idea how to proceed except to try to get his hands on his wand, and he was in dismal shape for a fight. He sweated in cold panic and when he tried to look towards the door, he discovered one of his eyes was glued shut with blood. 

" _Alohomora_ ," said a sweet, clear voice, faintly heard through the heavy door, and Zach almost passed out again, this time from relief.

"Luna," he managed with his split lip as the door swung open. "Be careful, they've got guns."

"It's all right, I Stunned them," Luna said as she slipped inside the room. "I'm sorry that it took me a while to find you — oh, Zacharias!" She ran across the floor and knelt beside him, and he heard a sharp inhale. "Oh dear, you don't look very good at all!" 

"Don't feel very good," Zach said through gritted teeth. It was the understatement of the century. 

" _Episkey_ ," said Luna, wand raised, and he could feel the pain in his face easing as his lip and eye healed. It felt like that was only one hundredth of what was wrong with him, though. 

"I think the fuckers broke my ribs. Sorry about the puke." 

"That's all right. I'll clean you up a bit." She loosened the rope binding his wrists, cast a cleaning spell on his shirt, and then very gently lifted it up to look at his ribs. He saw her blanch. Hard to read she might be, but not in the sense of having a poker face. 

He threw a tense glance in the direction of the door. "You're sure they're down?"

"They'll sleep for a while. Zacharias, I can't heal this; it's too much," she said, anxiety in her voice. "I'll have to Apparate us away, and I'm afraid it's going to hurt quite a bit."

Zach produced a manly chuckle; that was the intention anyway. "I've taken worse on the pitch, love." At least it couldn't be as bad as it had felt when those kicks had hit him. His arms and wrists hurt, too, as the circulation flowed back into them, but it kind of bled into all the other stuff that felt awful. 

"Ribs... anything more?" 

"My head. Hit by a Bludger, it feels like."

She gently felt the back of his skull, and winced when Zach did. "Sorry. Can you stand?"

"I'll try." Sweating and clammy, he managed to sit up, and then struggled up on his feet, leaning heavily on Luna. "Oh, bloody buggering hell." His head swam.

"How do you feel?" she asked anxiously.

"Like a goddamn damsel in distress," Zach grunted, jaw clenched.

"I'll take you to Viktor's house, and we'll get a Healer for you."

"Wait—" He finally remembered, and looked towards the door. "Crap. They've still got my wand."

"No, _I_ 've got your wand," Luna reassured him with a sudden bright smile, and showed it to him, wound firmly into one of her belt loops.

"I'd kiss you if I hadn't puked," he said fervently.

She laughed that silver-bell laugh of hers, her hand clasping firmly around his, her wand arm thrown in support around his back. "Hold on to that thought for later, Zacharias. I'll take us there side-along."

Darkness squeezed in around them, and they spun. They came out of Apparition at the doorstep of a big two-storey house. It felt as though a knife had sliced in between his ribs, and Zach couldn't hold back a cry. 

"I know. I'm so sorry," Luna said, sounding almost as distressed as he felt. She led him forward, leaned heavily on the doorbell and then opened the door with an _Alohomora_ without waiting for a response. "Hermione!" she called out, an urgency in her voice like he'd never heard from her before. "Viktor!"

The thought of facing not only the world's biggest Quidditch star, but also Hermione Granger in his current condition made Zach groan. "Luna, surely they must have something like St Mungo's in Bulgaria—"

"It will be all right," Luna said patiently, leading him through the hall. "Viktor can call in someone from the Vultures' team of Healers, I'm sure. You'll be helped faster this way."

There was already commotion upstairs, a door slamming and the sound of running footsteps, and Zach cut his eyes at her. "Not a word about the strip act, all right?"

"I've been told I do vague quite well," she whispered with an encouraging smile, just as Hermione Granger came storming down the stairs in her nightie. And came to a dead stop.

"Zacharias... Smith?" 

Hermione gaped, but after a moment of plain bewilderment, she was efficient and even gentle, helping Luna support him into the kitchen where she turned on the light. Zach felt clammy and sick, and after one sharp glance at his face, she quickly produced a pain potion in a glass. Krum, tall and startlingly familiar, followed in boxers and a t-shirt that he'd put on inside-out, fingers dragging tiredly through black hair rumpled like a crow's nest. As soon as Luna had explained the situation in brief terms, he disappeared into another room to Floo-call his personal Healer.

"A Muggle nightclub?" Granger asked, biting her lip and tapping her fingers on her folded arms, watching as Luna cut Zach's shirt from his body with scissors and draped a blanket around his shoulders. She winced when her glance dropped to his bruised midriff. Zach wasn't so eager to look, himself. He was gulping down the potion as fast as he could. "And there are people there who'd observed you doing magic? Is that why they took you?"

"They'd seen me Disapparate," Zach said, and defensively added before she could tell him off, "I was careful. I always am."

"They may have seen me raise my wand to Stun them, but I was quick," Luna stated with serene confidence. "I'm not sure they will remember."

Granger frowned in concern. "Well, if they do, they should be Obliviated, and preferably tonight, before they go and talk about this anywhere. I have a contact at the Ministry who I could call on for a favour. What's the name of the club?"

" _Zvezda_ , off Tsar Simeon street. Zacharias has been working there a few nights, as a bouncer."

Hermione nodded and hurried out of the room, while Zach near choked on the last dregs of the potion.

"Well, you did bounce around a lot," Luna said. "So it wasn't completely untruthful."

"I did _not_ 'bounce around'," he said with what scant haughtiness he was able to muster. "I acted with elegance. And dignity." He scrubbed his hand down his face, and gave up the argument. "Relatively speaking."

She smiled shyly. "Oh, I thought you very elegant. It was quite exciting. And... unexpected, to see you like that."

He raised his head, looking up at her. The potion was acting fast, taking the edge off the pain, and making him woozy in a far more pleasant way. Luna was leaning against the kitchen table, arms folded across her midriff, hugging herself. He recalled the startled look on her face as he'd spotted her in the crowd. The way she'd hesitated, then come forward and taken him up on his crude request, with that gentle wonder in her touch. The heat of her palm pressed against his stomach.

"I was an ass," he said quietly. "Calling you out, like that, in the crowd. And still you... you bothered to look for me when I didn't turn up. You didn't simply assume the worst of me."

"Why would I do that?" She sounded honestly non-plussed.

He swallowed and looked away. A lot of people would have done, _had_ done. Hell, he didn't have a shining track record in such matters himself. He was hardly the most trusting or forgiving person. "Why wouldn't you?" he countered roughly.

"Well, you always were nice to me," she said with an easy smile. "I don't usually care one way or another what people think of me, but I do pay some attention. You were respectful, and that's easy to notice, when most people aren't."

"Actually—" Zach hesitated, flummoxed by her words, quite certain he didn't deserve them. "Cedric spoke well of you. Always. And Ced was the smartest, the best person I've known. A whole damn lot smarter and better than me. So I knew if he treated you well, I certainly had no call to do any worse." He felt, to his horror, a tightness in his throat. His head throbbed dully, and he bowed his neck, raised a hand and gingerly prodded the goose egg at the back of his skull. "If I've turned out somewhat better than a complete bastard, it was because Cedric made me want to be... better than my father ever wanted me to be."

"Oh, Zacharias. You're much better than you give yourself credit for." There was something surprised, even tender in her voice, and she drew up a chair before him, sat down and took one of his hands lightly in both of her own. "Thank you for telling me that, about Cedric. That makes me so glad to hear." She eyed him worriedly. "Are you feeling a little better?"

"Yeah." He shifted slightly, to check the state of his ribs, then held still with a wince. At least he didn't feel like he might pass out, any longer. Glancing down at their hands, he saw that she still had his bowtie looped around her wrist, and it made him smile despite everything. "Luna, what were you going to tell me about your dad?"

But just then, Krum walked back into the kitchen, followed by a gray-haired wizard in a dressing gown and slippers who was carrying a bag of equipment. Krum introduced him as Healer Markov. The Healer clicked his tongue upon seeing Zach's injuries, and put his bag on the kitchen table, shooing Krum out with a wave of his hand. Luna was permitted to stay through the procedure, which involved a thorough scanning by wand along his body, various minor reparations to bruises and scabs, some careful attending to the back of his head and a very uncomfortable setting and mending of his ribs, two of which had, indeed, been broken. Zach clenched his jaw until it ached to keep from making more than an occasional shaky hiss of pain. Luna had already saved his arse and seen him moaning and crying out like a baby, and his male pride smarted to think she'd see him as someone to be comforted and pitied. He'd much rather have her looking at him the way she'd done in the club, before everything had gone to hell. 

At the end of it, though, the pain had been eased to a dull bruised ache, and he felt a good deal better. The Healer gave Zach a jar of bruise salve and a stronger pain potion, and left with instructions for him to get a good night's sleep and to call him again if he wasn't back to usual shape in the next day or two. By the time Markov left, Hermione was back from wherever she'd gone to, and arrangements were being made to put Zach up for the night.

"If there's a hotel nearby, or something—" Zach felt like he had to offer, even though he felt about to keel over and what money he'd saved was locked up in the reception at the hostel. He'd have no way of getting at it until he felt better. Still, by morning he ought to be able to Apparate, he hoped.

"You are our guest here," stated Krum at once. He likely thought Zach a closer friend to both of the girls than was actually the case, and Zach waited for Granger's response. She stood yawning and shivering slightly with Krum's arm around her shoulders, his hand rubbing gently up and down her bare upper arm. But she was still as bossy as ever, and Zach was kind of grateful for it in this one instance. 

"Don't be silly, Zacharias; you're in no fit state. We'll put you up in the downstairs guest room. Unless—" she paused, flustered, glancing from Luna to him, and back again to Luna. "Are you two — do you wish to, uh, share a room, or?"

Luna hadn't anticipated the question, it seemed. She parted her lips to reply, looked in consternated query at Zach, who knew what he wished but certainly wouldn't impose it on her, and closed her mouth again. 

"Oh," Hermione said with a sheepish grin. "Separate rooms, I guess? 

"Probably, yes. It's very good of you," Zach said stiffly, all but swaying on his feet with exhaustion. "I would like to compensate you for—" 

"Oh, honestly, stop that nonsense." She smiled at him, and despite the words she suddenly sounded quite kind and not so bossy or abrasive after all. "We're glad to have you. Your room is still as you left it, Luna. I'll get bedclothes for Zach."

Luna offered to make the bed, and Krum and Hermione went back upstairs. Zach got a towel and a spare toothbrush and went to use the bathroom next door to his room while Luna made things ready, and when he returned he was so knackered that the walls seemed to wobble around him. A glance at his wristwatch told him it was past two at night. The guest room was small, but the bed was big and comfortably made up with fluffy pillows and a duvet, and his eyes practically glazed over at the sight of it. Luna had placed his wand on the nightstand, and a clean set of what were likely Krum's clothes lay neatly folded on a wooden chair.

"Are you hungry? I could find you something in the kitchen," Luna offered. 

He'd not eaten since lunch, but she must be dead on her feet, too, although she didn't show it. He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the bed. "Just need to lie down. Maybe a glass of water, if it's not too much trouble. Hey, Luna—" He caught her with his hand slipping lightly around hers as she passed him, and she stilled, looking at him with those amazing eyes. He was aware, in a distanced way, that he wanted to kiss her, but she deserved better than what he was capable of at the moment, and it wasn't why he'd stopped her anyway. "Thank you. For saving my stupid arse. _You_ are no damsel in distress, that's for certain."

She beamed at him. "It was my pleasure, Zacharias Smith. There's nothing wrong about a damsel in shining armour rescuing a knight in distress, is there?"

"Nothing at all." Zach gave her a sleepy grin and let her go with a squeeze of his hand. Hell, he was no knight, but he was too tired to argue, even too tired to think of a reason why he should. He almost groaned with relief as he climbed into the soft, soft bed.

Before Luna was back with the requested glass of water, Zach slept. 

***

It was late morning when he woke up, and he went straight into the shower and then got dressed in the jeans and shirt of the biggest Quidditch star in the world. Zach was enough of a Quidditch nut that he couldn't deny that it gave him a bit of a giddy thrill. Heading through the living-room into the kitchen, the house seemed empty, but in the kitchen the pair of French doors stood open to a patio, and through them he could see Luna, standing on her head. Her long blonde hair pooled gently on the sunlit lawn. She was wearing yellow-duckling pyjamas, and her bare feet wiggled dreamily for balance.

"Morning," he said, amused, leaning against the door jamb.

"Zacharias!" She gracefully arched down on her feet and jumped up to join him. "I'm so glad you're awake. Are you feeling better today?"

"Much, thank you. Not quite in shape to do what you just did, but I'm getting there."

"Perhaps by tonight, we can stand on our heads together," Luna said. "It's very relaxing. Come, let me get you some breakfast." She walked past him into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder while she put plates and cups on the table and rummaged in the pantry. "Hermione has gone to the wizarding library in Burgas; she's doing her studies there at the moment. Viktor is at the Vultures' pitch for team practice. If you feel up to it, perhaps you'd like to go to the youth hostel and get your things. You're invited to dinner, and Hermione said you are very welcome to stay here."

Zach frowned, sitting down at the table. "I don't want to impose."

"Oh, is it imposing, when you have an invitation?" Luna asked. "I never thought it so."

"You really are cheekier than most people think, Luna."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I believe in telling the truth," she said, pouring boiling water from the tip of her wand into a teapot.

"The truth. Right. How was it with my bouncer job at the club again?" Zach asked with a smirk.

"Oh, that. I thought we'd agreed that wasn't exactly a lie." She grinned, sitting down facing him at the table. She'd produced a simple, but mouthwatering feast for him in little more than a minute. Sweet and savoury pastries, thick Bulgarian yoghurt with raspberries and golden honey, cheese and boiled eggs and fruit juice and the pot of brewing tea. Zach was ravenous, now that he gave it some thought. He piled food on his plate and dug in.

"Hermione said this morning that everything went well, at the night club," Luna said. "They found the three men I'd Stunned, and Obliviated them all. The accordionist won't even remember you've met before, if you turn up on the street to perform again."

"Yeah? Well, I'd like to go and find him and punch his daylights out," Zach grumbled, reflexively prodding his ribs where Georgi had taken such pleasure in kicking him. "He's hated my guts from the day I turned up there. I refused an offer he made to perform together; it would have been less money for me, more for him."

Luna sighed, helping herself to a _mekitza_ with powdered sugar and jam. "You wouldn't believe an accordionist could be anything but nice. It's kind of sad, when you think of it."

That perspective hadn't occurred to Zach, and his vindictive mood evaporated as he chuckled. "You're right, it's a bloody disgrace. All right, I'll go into Sofia; I need to pick up my pay at the club, anyway. And I'll get my stuff at the hostel, if you're sure it's all right that I stay here."

"Quite sure. Would you like me to come with you?" She'd curled up her feet on the chair, yellow-duckling'ed knees drawn up in front of her, and she looked at him sidelong. "It's all right if you don't want me to."

"No, I... I would enjoy your company," Zach said, carefully, but truthfully, and was rewarded with a wide, bright smile and her body loosening from the curled-up position, her feet slipping down on the floor again while she leaned her elbows on the table. He realised she'd been bracing herself for rejection, and something tightened, in a nice way, in his chest. She wasn't someone who'd worry about such a thing normally, he believed. So that she did worry, when it came to him... that was a revelation.

They Apparated to the youth hostel in Sofia after they'd tidied the kitchen, and then went on to the club, where Galina, the brusque, squat receptionist in charge of paying the performers, handed him last night's pay in a sealed envelope. Zach opened it to check the sum was right; he hadn't been certain there'd be any money waiting for him at all, but evidently Galina hadn't been in on the more sinister plans for him. He had no idea if the manager had known, and frankly he wasn't interested. He was done with the bloody place, and it was a relief to walk away from it. But first, he manned up and went into the changing room. It had his pulse rate picking up more than he cared to admit even to himself, but he wasn't leaving his trusty old leather jacket to their tender mercies, on the chance that it was still there. He broke into a huge grin when he saw it hanging in his locker. Even his bag was there, kicked into a corner and obviously rooted through, but not missing anything important as far as he could tell from a quick search.

Luna had stayed at a wizarding inn the night she'd spent in Sofia, and they went there next, picking up her small bag, and then Apparated back to Krum's house. The temperature had picked up at midday again, and it was a gentle twenty degrees in the shade.

"We should be out in the sun; it's such a lovely day. There's a swimming pool out the back," Luna said. "I have a bikini."

Zach tilted his head at her, eyebrows raised, and Luna tilted hers right back with a sassy-dreamy little smile that was just too bloody cute, damn it.

"Have you, now?" he asked. "Is it scandalously skimpy?"

"I'm not sure, but it's got rainbow stripes," she said. "And a bright yellow bow on the bum."

"Well, then, let's see your bum in it, you rotten little tease." He grinned. "God knows you've seen enough of mine. You kind of owe me one."

His swim trunks had gone missing last month on a beach in the Cyclades under unclear circumstances, and Zach decided to swim in his boxers and dry in the sun, rather than go rummaging for proper swimwear in his host's wardrobe. If questioned at wand point, he'd have copped to a bit of awe of Viktor Krum. The man was living the dream that had been Zach's since he was old enough to understand what Quidditch was, and it was impossible to even reasonably envy him when he was that gifted at it. Zach thought he could have had a good Quidditch career, himself. Still could, he supposed, if he decided to go for it. But he wasn't in Krum's class. Very few were. 

He picked up a bath towel from the wardrobe in his room, and padded barefoot in his jeans out onto the patio from the kitchen, and from there around the house just to have a look. It was a pleasant house; he could see that now in the daylight and without a couple of broken ribs to distract him. Not ostentatious, but a decent size, and with a high, well-warded stone wall that might give a hint, if one knew, that here lived a celebrity with particular needs for privacy. The ground floor was grey stone, with window boxes spilling trails of red flowers; the second floor was in white adobe with wooden trim and a large wooden terrace. The garden was nicely kept, roses still in bloom here and there, and the swimming pool was a bright blue eye in the midst of the lush green. Krum was only a few years older than himself, but he had it made. Zach felt... not envious, but, suddenly, ever so slightly exasperated with himself. What the fuck had he been up to, really, for the past year or so? Running away from stuff that he damned well knew he'd have to confront sooner or later, unless he wanted to be on the run for the rest of his life. That wasn't exactly an option.

He was distracted by the soft noise of footsteps behind him, and turned around. Luna was walking gingerly on the sun-heated stone of the patio, and she was a sight to chase any morose thoughts away. Tall, lithe and long-legged, in a bikini that was rainbow-striped, as described, and definitely both skimpy and sexy. Her skin was fair but with a little glow remaining from a summer tan, and her hair tumbled down to her waist like a mermaid's, her wand whimsically wound into it above her ear. Her breasts were perfect soft handfuls, he assessed with a practiced eye. Zach wondered how he'd ever questioned the sexual appeal of Luna Lovegood. It was staring him right in the eyes.

She made a little twirl for him. "Yellow bow," she pointed out. "The bow makes me happy."

"I can see that. It makes me happy, too," Zach said, gazing appreciatively at her round, pert bum. He felt he was allowed, when she presented it to him so readily. He unbuttoned the jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them. "I'm afraid there are no bows on Krum's boxers. Come to think of it, I guess I'm glad. You've already seen me once in less than dignified underwear." He walked over to the edge of the pool and jumped in at the deep end, making sure to splash her thoroughly.

Luna slipped in more sleekly, mermaid-like, and they swam a few lazy laps back and forth. The exercise did wonders for Zach's battered muscles. He lost himself in the familiar rhythm of it for a while, before rolling over on his back and floating, closing his eyes against the sun.

A small hand found his, and he peeked an eye open at her. Luna was floating, too, beside him, her hair fanning out like blonde wisps of seaweed. "Hi, Zacharias," she said.

He smiled, shutting his eyes again, and curled his hand around hers while he lazily moved his other arm to keep afloat. "Hi, Luna."

"This is nice, isn't it? Is it all right if I tell you about my father, now?"

He didn't open his eyes again to look at her face, though he kind of wanted to. He just gave her hand a squeeze. "If you want to, yes, of course it's all right. You can tell me anything you like."

"Thanks." Still, it was a little while before she started. "My father had a very big heart, and he loved me with every little corner of it. And I loved him back just as much, and respected him more than anyone in the world. My mother died when I was nine, and after that it was just him and me. I know many people thought him a bit mad, but he was smart and well-read and kind, and a man who held himself to high moral standards. He taught me all I know about reaching for my dreams and being strong. And then... I was captured by Death Eaters."

Zach listened carefully. He didn't know a lot about the editor of the _Quibbler_ , but he'd heard disparaging comments, of course. Some admiring ones, also, during that war year when the notorious magazine dared oppose Voldemort while other voices stilled. And he'd heard, in the summer after the Battle, that Xeno Lovegood had died in captivity towards the end of the war, but Zach hadn't had many channels of information that summer. He'd had no contact with friends, and had avoided the wireless and the _Prophet_ as much as he possibly could. He turned his head and glanced at Luna. She looked serene, floating beside him, long blonde eyelashes casting shadows on her face in the sunlight, a soft flush of sun over the lightly freckled bridge of her nose. "What happened?"

"They forced him to stop challenging them in the _Quibbler_ , by threatening to hurt me. And... it got worse. They said they'd kill me unless he agreed to lure Harry to our house, and betray him to the Death Eaters." Luna took a sudden sharp breath. "It's still hard to think of, because I know it must have been torture for him, to make that choice. And I never got the chance to meet him again and tell him that I understood, and that I forgave him."

"So he refused?" Zach said slowly.

"No." Luna opened her eyes, and turned her head, too, smiling at him sadly. "He was my dad, and he could never betray me. He betrayed Harry. Harry escaped, though."

"Ah." Zach didn't know what more to say, but he gave her hand another, gentle squeeze. That was a fucked-up choice to have posed to you, all right. "I'm sorry that happened to you both," he said finally. It sounded lame, but it was true. "It wasn't even a real choice he had, between two things that both went against everything he believed in."

"And yet he had to choose," Luna said almost in a whisper. "And it's made me think a bit more about the thing Dumbledore said to us that time, after Cedric had been killed. That there would come a time, when we all must choose between what was right and what was easy. But what when all of the choices are wrong, and feel impossible? Or when it's impossible to tell at the time what is right? How do you be a good person, then?"

Zach didn't answer, squinting against the sun overhead. He understood what she was getting at, a parallel with his own father, but that was hardly fair to _her_ dad. Conrad Smith hadn't been loving, or kind, and certainly not a good person. The moral standards he'd held himself to had been bigoted and self-serving. Zach let go of her hand, and turned in the water, letting himself sink under for a minute before the need for oxygen forced him up and he surfaced with a gasp, turning and swimming for the shallow end. There were steps in the pool, there, and he sat down, stroking his dripping hair back from his face with both hands while she touched the bottom with her feet and waded towards him, water streaming from her.

"So you're telling me that it was the same, with my dad," he said. 

"I understand that our fathers were different, and the situations were different." Luna sat down beside him. "But the unfairness of the choice was the same. And in the end, they both elected to save us. I guess what I'm telling you is that I can see why your father did what he did. And I understand why you ran from the Battle, and I think your Hufflepuff friends do, too. You had an impossible choice, as well."

Zach shook his head, studying his hands. "I don't even know for sure if I loved him, or if it was just loyalty he'd instilled in me. Or if he loved me, or if it was just sort of... an instinct to preserve the next generation. What the fuck do I know? He was a cold, self-serving git, and his ambition was to pass those qualities on to me. I'm not sure he entirely failed, either." 

"We all get good and bad from our parents," Luna said, wiggling her toes thoughtfully in the shallow blue water. Her toenails were painted with an iridescent sky blue polish. "I think your mum must have been awfully nice."

He had to laugh at that. "Thanks, Luna. She... probably was too nice for him. I don't recall much; she died when I was five. I remember she had brown curly hair that I loved to mess up with my hands, and she let me. It was the softest stuff. And I remember everything went grey and cold when she was gone. The house, my dad's moods, everything."

"That's a good memory of your mum, though," Luna said softly. 

"Yeah. I reckon it is." Zach nudged her elbow with his. It had been enough of heavy soul-searching, he felt. "Hey, when you mentioned you were putting on a bikini, I imagined it would be for a more frivolous purpose, I must admit."

He could see her suppress a smile. "Bikinis are quite apt attire for talking. Sometimes all our clothes get in the way of what we really want to say. Don't you think?" 

Zach raised his head and looked straight into her pretty, sun-flushed face with those dreamy grey eyes and her lips all tugging up wanting to smile. Gently, slowly, so that she could stop him if she wanted, he placed a hand behind her neck, and leaned forward and kissed her.

Her lips were soft under his, and she tasted so damn sweet, of sunshine and water and hope and curiosity and _Luna_ , Zach thought. Too lovely for someone like him, who'd mindlessly shagged his way through Europe like girls were a commodity and sex was going out of style. But all of that fell away, really, as Luna touched his cheek and kissed him back, eager and gentle and astoundingly uncomplicated. She parted her lips when he licked in between them, let her tongue glide smooth and warm along his, her breath hitching and sighing shakily into his mouth in a way that felt so erotic it made him moan.

He pulled back just a fraction, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from her face. They were so close that he couldn't tell if it was his, or hers, so close that their damp lips still nearly brushed together when he spoke. "I've wanted to do that since we had lunch in that café."

"Why didn't you?" she breathed.

He laughed. "Well, it seemed a bit forward at the time. And honestly, I wasn't sure if it was right to want you that way."

Luna's hand cupped his cheek, her eyes clouding over. "Don't say that. Some boys think very odd things about me. I'm not... _untouchable_."

"I know that now," Zach murmured, contrite, his hand brushing up and down her spine. She'd sounded frustrated, nearly hurt for a moment, and hurting her was the very last thing he'd wanted to do. 

She leaned her forehead against his, talking softly, rapidly, without meeting his eyes. "I only ever want to have sex with someone who's my friend, but my friends don't think I should be touched. The only boys who'd like to have sex with me seem to think things about me that no friend would ever think. That I'm too crazy to care who I do it with. And too naive to understand that they think of me that way."

"Luna..." Not so uncomplicated, after all. What girl ever was, though? Zach tangled his fingers gently into the wet strands at the nape of her neck, and wondered who'd hurt her pride and her heart, whether it had been a well-intentioned friend or just a stupid careless bastard like himself. He wanted to punch them in the face, regardless that he knew he was far from a saint. But oh, how he wanted to do right by her, now. "If you consider me your friend, well, I'm honoured. And you've no idea how much I'd love to have sex with you, if you'd like to, though I'd kind of figured I'd start by asking you out for dinner or something. A movie, maybe." He tugged playfully at her hair, and gave her a lop-sided little grin. "'Cause you informed me that you're quite a regular girl. And regular girls like being wooed, don't they?"

Luna smiled again, almost shyly, raising her eyelashes that had been stubbornly lowered, so that she met his gaze again. "I'd really like to have sex with you now, Zacharias."

The surge of blood to his groin made him feel slightly light-headed. "Yeah?" he said quietly. "I'm not about to put up a vigorous fight, here, I can promise you that." He tugged her wand out of her hair and placed it on the edge of the pool behind them, and then he curled his hand behind her neck again. He wasn't going to ask her if she was sure; he somehow didn't think she'd take too kindly to such patronising chivalry. Not untouchable, not all that naive, and certainly not crazy. It was pretty fucking clear that Luna knew what she wanted. And he wanted the exact same thing.

Her hands slid into his hair when they kissed again, eager little noises spilling onto his tongue. He swallowed it all down, every sigh and whimper, his pulse racing with hunger for her, lust washing over him in hot waves. When his lips moved to her throat, she leaned back on her hands and arched her neck back with a moan, her head lolling heavy and restless while he nipped at her soft skin and sucked at her pulse point. He palmed her breasts, slipped his hands inside the small triangles of fabric that covered her, and kneaded gently, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They pebbled under his touch, and she was squirming and breathing hard now, raising a hand again to thread her fingers into his hair when he shifted lower on the steps and eased the colourful fabric away from her breasts. Her nipples were a rosy pink against milk-pale skin, and he leaned down to lick at one stiff bud and draw it into his mouth, pulling on her with slow, firm tugs of lips and tongue. One breast, and then the other, taking his time while she trembled and made those desperately sweet noises, and he knew she'd be getting good and wet for him by now.

He drew back, rock hard and flushed with arousal and awe of her as he took her in. The tips of her breasts had turned pink, the nipples plump and red from all the attention. She was leaving him to it, not attempting yet to reciprocate, but not passive, far from it — soaking up the sensual attention, generous and unguarded with every response, her fingers petting entranced through his hair. He wanted to make her feel so fucking good, make her cry out and tug at his hair, come apart around his fingers and his tongue and his cock. He traced the clean, jutting line of a collarbone with his tongue, licking into the little hollow there. "Luna. Are you sure we won't be disturbed, here?"

"Mmmm," she moaned, needing some moments to catch up with him. He had to ask the question twice, which made him grin. "Uh, yeah. What time is it?"

"About one, I think."

"They won't be home for another couple of hours, at least."

"No gardener, housekeeper or anything?" He brushed his thumb over one of those gorgeous, plump nipples and twisted it lightly between his fingers.

"No," Luna gasped.

"Good," Zach said, and gripped her around the waist, hoisting her up one step, then another onto the very edge of the pool, so that her bum was out of the water. Her bikini bottoms were tied at the sides, which was just about his favourite thing in the world. He drew carefully at the strings, and peeled the wet triangles of fabric away from her body. 

Luna closed her knees a moment, and then relaxed to let them fall loose and open, echoing the trust and anticipation on her face. His gaze dropped to her damp nest of curls above pink, soft lips, and he cupped her with his hand, let a finger breach her folds and groaned at the slick heat that met him. His cock gave a thick pulse, one-track-minded thing that it was, and he reached down and gave it a sharp squeeze to stave off the eagerness, before he slid further down into the water, kissing her breasts, her soft stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel. And lower still, his hands high up on her inner thighs, coaxing them wider open as he inhaled the tangy-musky-sweet scent of aroused girl that rose against him, so perfect his mouth watered and his vision swam with the urge to bury his face there. 

"Zacharias," she moaned, both hands scrambling to grip the edge of the pool, and he moaned, too, seeing her so eager, hearing her say his name like that.

He carefully lifted one of her thighs over his shoulder, glanced up at her. "Remember you said you like watching men enjoy when they eat?" He'd definitely not forgotten how those words had struck him at the time. "Well, you may want to pay attention now, love."

"Oh," she said, her eyes opening wide. "You are quite a naughty boy!"

Zach laughed, licked out slowly at the glistening seam of those soft, soft lips to pick up her taste, and shushed her teasingly when she jerked and whimpered. "You are quite a naughty girl, yourself. At least I'm sure our hosts would think so, if they could see what we are up to in their swimming pool." 

That comment tore a groan from her, and he pressed a smiling kiss against her inner thigh, realising she liked that idea. The thought of being naughty, opening herself wide to him out here under the bright sun; the risk of discovery, if ever so slight. A girl after his own heart, she was. And she was, indeed, watching, flushed with arousal and curiosity, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip as she panted for what he was about to do to her. So fucking pretty and sexy, he just held still and stared for a moment. "You're gorgeous," he said gruffly. "Christ, Luna, you make me so hard."

He spread her with his thumbs and licked her open in a firm, deliberate glide of his tongue, drinking down the slick wet with a groan of indulgence, at last. The amazing taste and scent of her, of girl and lust and sex, filled him up, chased away all coherent thought and made his mind a soup of lush, unthinking hunger for this. He speared his tongue and sliced it inside her, his cheeks and chin soaked with her already, felt her clamping tight around his sliding tongue and _growled_ , almost lost it at the thought of how she'd fit around his cock, the perfect wet squeeze of it. Drew back to lick at her clit, soft circles and flickers of touch at first, allowing it to build at her pace before he went at her with more intensity, taking his cue from her squirming hips and those frantic, sexy little noises spilling from her lips. She was so damn responsive, just _beautiful_ , and Zach was pressing his aching cock against the edge of the tiled step underneath him, unable to help seeking whatever inadequate friction he could get, but resisting with all his might the temptation to reach down with his hand. That would end it for him, for sure.

Finally, when she started pleading in sobbing breaths and fisted her hands mindlessly into his hair, he worked a finger inside her, drew her clit into his mouth and milked the swollen little nub firmly with his tongue. Luna whined and pressed herself up into his mouth, began trembling rhythmically as her thighs clenched around his head, and he doubled his efforts and sucked _hard_ to pull her over the edge. With one hand buried in his hair, the other braced behind her to support her, she cried out her pleasure without restraint as her body clutched tight on his finger and released in hard fluttering pulses. Her clit throbbed against his lips, and he swirled his tongue on her softly and steadily, now, feeling her thighs shake and loosen their tension on his shoulders.

He came over her, manhandling her higher up onto the patio, and she hummed in drowsy compliance and helped him push the sodden boxers down on his thighs. Scrambled for her wand, herself, and cast the prerequisite charm against her stomach, thighs spread wide open for him as he took his cock in his hand and wet it with her slickness, then aligned their bodies to begin pressing inside her, going slow. He didn't think she'd done this too often, hell he didn't know for sure if she'd done it at all, but it didn't seem such an important matter to clear between them right now. It was _their_ first time, though, and that seemed to matter a great deal. She whimpered, frowning, clearly struggling a bit with the squeeze of it while he worked his cock inside her in achingly controlled increments, his muscles trembling from the strain while he forced himself to anticipate her reactions for every advance forward. She slipped her arms around his neck, seeking his lips with hers, and finally some last vestige of tension in her released, and he glided fully inside her like on a wave, and they both moaned because the fit was _perfect_ , soft clinging wetness, so slickly tight his eyes rolled back in his head with the pleasure of it. 

Her hips rose in a tentative, lush arch to meet him, and Zach groaned and kissed her jaw, smiling at her, breathless. He found he could afford to take this slowly for just a bit longer, now that his cock had got its single-minded way and was inside of her. He started moving, gentle and torturously careful compared to what he longed to do, but the tender effort seemed well worth it when Luna fell into the easy rhythm with a low moan, her slender thighs sliding up to wrap around his hips.

"Good?" he asked her softly.

"Oh, yes." Her hands glided dreamily down his back, curved over his bottom. "I love how you feel inside me. Big, but not too big."

"Thank you so much. I'm glad it's not too big." He was laughing as he kissed her. He did a lot of that, with her, he'd noticed. A lot more than he'd been used to, in a long while, and it felt nicer than he would have imagined. He kept thrusting slowly inside her with languid, sensual enjoyment, and then gradually less slowly as the exquisite pressure mounted in his cock, tension gathering in the muscles of his arse and thighs, and it became difficult to focus on anything else than how he was going to come, soon, so fucking hard, and how very good it was going to be.

"Can you come again, Luna?" He reached to take her hand from behind his neck and lead it between their bodies, dipped their fingers into her wetness where they were joined. He couldn't resist rubbing her hard little clit lightly himself, drawing a whimper from her, before pulling his hand away. "Touch yourself for me," he whispered.

"For me, you mean?" she asked.

He huffed in amused surprise, shaking his head when she laughed. "Yeah, smart mouth. I guess, for you." She did as requested, moving her fingers between them, and her breath picked up at once, eyes glazing over as her lips parted wider and her head rolled restlessly to the side. He leaned on one arm and fingered her nipple with his free hand, thrusting faster, kissing her, moaning while she clutched tighter and tighter around his cock and he fought to hold back his own orgasm until she'd had another go. The moment she shook and started pulsing around him, he let all restraint go, pushed into her in a few purposeful, deliriously relieved lunges and came so hard he saw stars.

"Wow," she whispered. He was lying on top of her, winded, the sun beating down on his back and arse and the cool water of the pool lapping at his legs. "That was nicer than I'd thought."

"I tell you, people tend to underestimate me," Zach said, chuckling as he nuzzled against her hair.

"No, I didn't mean—" She smiled at him, flushing slightly. "You know what I meant, Zacharias."

He thought he did, a close enough approximation, anyway. She raised a small hand to tuck his hair carefully behind his ear, and he turned his head slightly to lean into the caress. After a bit, aware that he was quashing her against a very unforgiving surface, he forced himself to move, got up on his knees and pulled the boxers back on. He climbed up on his feet and reached a hand down to her, watching as she took her wand and her discarded bikini bottoms and stood up. She wore only the rainbow striped top and very askew at that, and under his appreciative gaze, her face was rosy. 

"Luna, are you blushing?" he asked, reaching out intrigued to cup her jaw in his fingers. He smoothed his thumb over her warm, pink skin, tenderly, belying the cocky words. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Oh, I'm quite sure I was blushing in that club last night the entire time," she confided, smiling bashfully at him. "I'll stop in a bit, I think."

"Not on my account. Men tend to feel smug when pretty girls blush for them; didn't you know that?" Zach drew her close for a moment, relishing all that naked, sunwarmed skin pressed against his own, and kissed her cheek. "Come, love. Let's grab a shower."

***

"Hermione and Luna tell me that you are good at Quidditch," said Viktor, raising thick eyebrows at Zach over his glass of dry, dark Bulgarian wine. The four of them were gathered around the wooden table on the patio with wine and snacks and dips after dinner. Logs were blazing and crackling in the brick fireplace, and heating spells had been cast to take the rest of the night's chill off.

"Did they?" Zach, to his consternation, found himself in the same predicament as Luna a few hours earlier, flustered heat rising unbidden in his face. He was about to blurt out something embarrassingly obvious like, 'Not in your league, of course', but thankfully his natural instinct to be taciturn stopped the words before they'd been uttered aloud. He'd done a load of laundry and had his own clothes on again; that helped. It was hard not to feel a bit servile in another man's underwear. 

"I used to be all right," he settled on, at length.

"You and Luna must come to Vultures' match on Saturday. And if you would like, we will go to pitch one night, after practice. I will bring a friend or two. We can toss some Quaffles." Viktor grinned, white in his tanned face. "For Seeker, friendly games are not fun. When practice with friends, I like Chasing, like you."

His gaze drifted to Luna, tucked into Zach's arm in the hammock they were sitting in. The sly dog. And Hermione giggled. Zach arched an eyebrow at the sight. First Luna blushing for him, then Viktor Krum being all jovial and chummy (and talking about Quidditch with him, which Zach was going to act completely cool and relaxed over, goddamnit), and now Granger giggling. The world seemed to have turned upside down in a pretty good way.

"Sure. I'd love to." He grinned, holding Luna a little closer, stroking her arm. It was a proprietary gesture, and he couldn't help himself, though Luna was probably the last person on God's green earth that you could own in any way. But she seemed to enjoy these little attentions, and he was so damn proud to have her looking at him the way she did. Proud, and uncharacteristically humble. A girl like her, so fucking _good_ , and brave, and smart, and strong... and she felt thrilled to sit here with him, too, by the look of it. She was still wearing his bowtie on her wrist, and that had to mean something, right? Zach felt that he couldn't discount the existence of Snorkacks, or Needle-Fanged Congroes, when something like this could happen.

They chatted over the wine for a while; Viktor asked Zach about his thoughts on the coming European Cup in the winter season, and Zach was more than happy to share, getting good and enthusiastic when he started on the chances of the Falcons to make their mark. Hermione had just butted in to ask him to demonstrate some of his magical act, to steer the conversation away from Quidditch, no doubt, when they heard a loud rapping at the outer gates.

Hermione broke off mid-sentence and looked at Viktor. "That's pretty late. Can it be Dmitri? Or Tsveta?"

Viktor shook his head. "They are allowed by the wards. And they would not come so late, without calling first."

The rapping sounded again, even louder this time. "You'd better check," Hermione said, and Viktor nodded, already on his way. Hermione took the bottle and topped up their glasses while glancing curiously towards the gates.

Zach didn't hear the gate swing open, but he did hear conversation as Viktor and the unannounced guest approached. And his jaw dropped for a moment as he recognised the voice — affable, English, and very pompous. He fixed Luna with an incredulous gaze. "You didn't."

"You said at the café yesterday that if he believed you, he should have come here to tell you so himself," Luna said calmly. "It felt like an important message to convey."

"It wasn't a message! It was an expression of annoyance, and imprecisely articulated." Zach noticed Hermione's eyes on him and sank back with a huff of defeat. Hell, he hadn't even raised his voice. It was obvious that he was going to have to play nice and talk with the smug prat, or Zach would be seen as the bad guy here.

"It will be fine," Luna said, giving his arm an encouraging pat. "I'm sure of it."

Viktor and Ernie Macmillan emerged around the corner, and Viktor glanced at Hermione with a bemused expression, as if he were asking her whether she'd planned a class reunion at his house, and if so, why she hadn't thought to inform him of said plans. 

"I'm very sorry for intruding," Ernie said. "I won't keep you for long. Hi, Luna." He grinned at her, then ambled over to shake hands with Granger. "Hermione. Splendid to see you. You look well."

She appeared surprised, but pleased to see him. Ernie had always got on famously with Granger, for some reason. Swots of a feather, Zach assumed, even as he itched to mimic Ernie's _'Splendid to see you. You look well'_ in childishly pompous tones. Obviously, he knew better than to do that out loud. 

"Thank you, Ernie, I'm very well," Hermione said, getting up. "This is a lovely surprise! Please take my chair; I'll get an extra. Viktor, can you get a glass for Ernie and open the other bottle of wine?"

"That's very kind, but actually," Ernie said, "I've come to talk with Zach, and can't stay long. I aim to catch the next scheduled Portkey from Sofia back to London." He hadn't even glanced at Zach, but now he did. And Zach saw that he was nervous, under the jovial facade. 

Well, good. Good that it wasn't just him, in fact. He didn't express that out loud, either. He squeezed Luna's arm and got up, nodding at Ernie. "Let's go inside."

Ernie trotted beside him, and Zach led him through the kitchen and into the living-room, closing the door. He wasn't sure what would be said, but he was very certain that he didn't want an audience for it. Finally, he turned to look at Ernie. "Well?"

" _'Well'_ ," repeated Ernie mockingly, and how unfair was it that Ernie got to mimic him, when Zach had wanted to do it first and had to restrain himself? But before he could make a scathing retort, Ernie came closer, and Zach held up his hands in alarm. "If you're going to hug me, I'm out of here."

"You bloody prat," said Ernie, and hugged him anyway, a veritable bearhug of the sort that probably only Ernie had given Zach before in their entire lives. And as always before, Zach endured the indignity stoically, finally raising an arm to pat Ernie on the back.

"All right, if you start blubbering, I'm really out of here," he said, resigned. 

Ernie drew back, and damn if his eyes weren't actually a bit shiny, but he was grinning despite it. "Arse. Good to see you haven't changed, I guess."

"I wish I could say the same," Zach said. But there was no real sting in the words. It was good to see Ernie. He'd always known it would be. That's what had bothered him, ultimately.

"Luna sent me an owl yesterday. I only got it this afternoon, or I'd have been here before."

"I had kind of a busy day yesterday, so that's all right," Zach deadpanned. He wasn't going to go into all of that with Ernie. Especially not the strip act.

"I got an owl from you last weekend, too. It was kind of... incoherent. So I worried."

"I was falling-down drunk, apparently. Can't recall a thing of it." Zach scratched his head thoughtfully. "Something about German boys with stinky trainers, Luna said. Let me tell you, that smell was worrisome, all right."

"Yeah, you told me you were concerned you'd fall asleep one night and never wake up again. I thought of coming to see you, then." Ernie went red as Zach smirked. "Not... because of the stinky trainers, obviously. But because it was the first sign of life in a bloody year. But then I heard Luna was planning to go, and she seemed better suited for making... first contact, as it were."

"Yes, I already cottoned on to that," Zach sniped.

"I'm sorry," Ernie said forcefully. "I'm so damn sorry that I believed the worst of you. You'd deserved better, after all those years we'd been friends. And I'm also sorry that you're such a blind, cynical git that you couldn't believe better of me, because I deserved better, too. That makes us more or less even, doesn't it? Hell, Zach, why didn't you tell us how it was, back then? Rather than pull out of the DA, crush Susan's heart, let us find out from rumour that your dad had turned Death Eater, and leave us all wondering when you ran hell for leather away from the Battle?"

"I was under the impression that you'd come here to grovel," Zach said stiffly. "This feels oddly unsatisfactory."

"Oh, I'm genuinely sorry. But if we'd known what happened with your dad, we'd have understood. We'd have done whatever we could to help. So when you left England, on the day when we finally got the truth of it, and you never left as much as a note — that was harsh." Ernie sighed. "But I suppose I sort of get it. That summer can't have been much fun for you. Your father had died, you'd lost everything, and we... cut you loose. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't completely sure I didn't deserve it." Zach hadn't meant to say that. But the words forced themselves out, all the same. He stared at his feet, his jaw clenching as he braced for the reply.

"Yeah, I figured as much. I know you that well. But you didn't, Zach, and you sure as hell didn't deserve what happened with your dad." He took a deep breath. "I'm here to ask you, from all of us, to come home."

Zach walked over to the window, seeing nothing but their reflections in the dark pane. "All of you?"

"Let's see. Hannah ordered me to beg on my knees if necessary. Which I'm obviously not going to do, but consider the sentiment expressed. Justin sends the message that you're a jolly good chap and that it would be excellent to have you around again. Well, words to that effect. And Susan said to tell you that she misses you, and that she's sorry, and that she'd like to kick your proud stupid arse around the British Isles a few times, and then she said to not tell you any of that and just ask you to come home." Ernie cleared his voice. "Oops."

"Is she doing well?" Zach asked quietly.

"Susan? Sure. She's still happy as a clam with Terry. They're expecting a sprog, and planning a wedding." Ernie eyed him sharply. "Still carrying a torch?"

"No. I'm over that. We barely had got together before it ended, anyway. I wish them well." Zach exhaled slowly, feeling the truth in his own words. He hadn't been entirely sure before he said them, like gauging an old wound and finding it painless and healed. It had hurt like bloody blazes when she'd turned away from him, when they all had gathered in the Room of Requirement and he'd stubbornly refused to go. And worse when he found out that she and Terry Boot had got together, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

But there'd been a lot of water under the bridge since those days.

"So. Are you coming, then? Or do we have to hire a hitwizard to kidnap you and bring you back in handcuffs?"

Zach gave him a reluctant grin, at last. "Nah, I'm coming home, since you miss me so much, you old sop. But I'm going travelling with Luna for a couple of weeks, first. I'll come home next month, get whatever job I can, I reckon. And try to get in shape for tryouts for next season of the League. That's the plan, anyway."

"Well... excellent!" Ernie floundered and appeared to lose steam at that information. "So I could have just waited another couple of weeks and not had to come here and humble myself?"

Zach scoffed. "If you call that humble, I worry about how you define the opposite." He paused. "You've made it easier to return," he admitted, at length. "So, not that I'm averse to you feeling like an idiot, but I wouldn't consider the trip entirely wasted."

"My pleasure, then." Ernie shrugged. "Hey, you've nothing to be ashamed of, coming back. You're not the only one who's been a bit rootless after the war, if you'll notice. Luna's been flitting back and forth through the world after her father died. Hermione — well, she had some rough stuff going on with her parents, after the war. I think she needed very badly to get away for a bit, too."

Zach nodded, making a note of what Ernie had said about Luna. It was surprising, in a way, since she seemed to have it so much more together than himself. But then again, perhaps not so surprising, thinking of what she'd told him in the pool earlier that day. It made him want to go and find her and give her a hug, and he went to open the door, glancing over his shoulder at Ernie. "When is that Portkey of yours?"

Ernie checked his wristwatch. "In... two hours."

"You've time for a glass of wine, then. And to meet my future girlfriend."

"Really? Who? I only saw Hermione and... Luna." Ernie did a double take. "Luna? Really? Uh, and 'future'?"

"Well, it's a bit premature to call her my girlfriend," Zach explained, "since I haven't asked her if she's on board with that. But I'm pretty sure it's not merely my healthy ego talking." They walked through the hall and the kitchen, companionably, side by side. It was still a mite awkward, Zach reflected, but it was hard sometimes to be anything but awkward with Ernie, and they'd both survive. "Besides, Hermione asked me to demonstrate my Muggle-charming magical act for everyone, just before you arrived. You don't want to miss out on that. After all, you may have been the first person to see me transforming coat buttons and gum wrappers into singing dormice, back in the dorm in fifth year."

"Good times," Ernie said. "I remember that. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Well, then." Zach bowed him out on the patio, took his wand and reached into his pocket for a gum wrapper. He still had them tucked away everywhere. Ernie got a glass of wine from Hermione, and sat down beside Luna. Zach started transforming the wrappers into dormice, and Luna burst out in the biggest grin when the dormice began to sing. 

Zach walked over to her and planted a passionate, lingering kiss on her mouth before he started up his routine. They were a small, but loudly appreciative audience, and he was smiling more in one night than he'd done in a year performing on the streets of Europe, as he gave them all one hell of a show.

***

"I've fallen for you hard," Zach whispered to Luna, much later that night. They were both lying in Zach's room, in his bed, and cooling off after a hot and sweaty session under, above, and tangled in the sheets, and he wanted to tell her this. It was scary-big words, for him. He'd never said anything remotely like it before, never mind this soon, and he was aware of sweating a bit for other reasons than the pleasant exertion minutes before. "I know it's crazy. It's happened so fast."

"There's nothing crazy about it," Luna said, giving him a sleepy smile where she lay half atop him with her arms folded on his chest. She yawned, closed her eyes again as he stroked her hair, and snuggled closer. "You know, Zacharias, sometimes people just meet in the right place at the right time."

And that, Zach figured, was as good an explanation of the last thirty-odd hours of his life as any.

  
  


-end-


End file.
